


Lucky Charms

by duen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duen/pseuds/duen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye wants to eat his breakfast in peace. Loki's got other things on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Charms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wheynet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheynet/gifts).



Clint slanted his eyes at the swing of the kitchen door, squaring his shoulders and hunching further in over his bowl of cereal. He chewed at it a little more aggressively, a little more audibly, slamming his spoon back into the bowl with a heavy clink before collecting another spoonful, spilling milk on the way to his mouth.

A chair scraped back on the tile and he fought back the urge to glance up at its soon-to-be occupant as they descended upon it in near-silent grace, dragging in the cereal box for themselves.

"Lucky Charms," a low, silky voice mused, and Clint fought another urge: a confusing urge to both shudder and growl. "Children's breakfast, Hawkeye? I'll have to admit, that's a little endearing."

"The fuck are you doing here?" Clint rumbled, forgetting to swallow and losing a line of milk down his chin. He swiped at it with the back of his hand, still refusing to even glance up at the intruder. He could only imagine the man's face, lowering his eyes on Clint with that condescending sneer, those too-focused, drawing eyes― sometimes blue, sometimes green, and always uncomfortably intimidating.

"Eating breakfast," Loki responded airily, and there came the light tinker of cereal hitting a bowl, the slosh of milk filling it in after. "My, my. Aren't we defensive this morning?" he went on with a low chuckle, and Clint nearly did let a shudder slip; he slammed his spoon back down, reached out for his cup of orange juice. It slopped back and forth as he dragged it toward him, nearly messing the table. "We're on the same side now," Loki went on, and although Clint still hadn't looked at him, he could already imagine the sarcastic twinge to the man's lip, the glistening amusement in his eyes.

_That's what he does_ , Clint reminded himself. _Everything is for his own sick entertainment―_

Another low chuckle. Clint let out an unintentional growl, tossing his head back and downing the rest of his glass in one swallow before slamming it back down onto the table and scraping his chair back to stand.

There came the soft whip of fabric at his back and he leapt upright, nearly shouting his surprise. Loki stood there in all of his triumphant glory, looking quite pleased with himself. It took every fiber of Clint's being to avert his gaze, to glance back at where the man had just been pouring himself a bowl of cereal, though it had only been another one of his illusions and the visage dissipated, flying into the air in a wisp of smoke.

There came a sudden weight to Clint's side, the shift of long, feathered hair on his bare shoulder. He fought yet another urge: to flinch, to push off from the table and abandon the room. He wasn't going to avoid the god any longer; he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of winning― not anymore.

"Have I ruffled your feathers, little bird?"

Clint cringed, working his jaw several times in an effort to ignore how close Loki was standing now, how the man had leaned further in, tilting his head and― did he just _smell_ him? Clint twisted around to face him, pressing on the back of his chair and rushing it against the table with a resounding clack.

_Those eyes_. They were searing into him now, lowering onto his jaw, his neck, his chest. They dipped further for a split second, a short enough amount of time that had Clint blinking confusedly, wondering if the man really had just looked _there_.

He had. Clint could tell by the curious, even playful smirk that fell on his lips, the tilt of his head, the heavy-lidded, unfaltering gaze that followed.

"Have I?" Loki questioned once more, and he smirked, a sight that had Clint's heart jerk strangely in his chest.

He screwed up his face into a grimace at the sensation, flicking his eyes to one side, anything to keep from having to look straight into that gleaming, other-worldly gaze.

"I was truly hoping we could... start over," Loki went on, voice lower than ever. He hovered near Clint's neck a second time, and Clint was one hundred percent positive that the man _was_ smelling him. The god dipped further in, no longer even remotely hiding his intentions as he inhaled deeply, exhaled something akin to a labored, even wistful sigh. "You want to know how good it felt, being inside of that thick skull of yours?"

Clint snarled, rushing his hands up to shove at the man, putting some much-needed distance between them.

"Fucking asshole," he breathed, and he nearly stumbled on his way toward the kitchen door. Loki hooked his arm, tugging him back. It wasn't forced, though Clint found himself turning to meet him regardless, surprising himself. Those _eyes_.

He held his breath at the sight of them, clenched his jaw, then his fist. Why couldn't he just crack his fist into his jaw and vacate the room? It's what he wanted, wasn't it? Though Loki was lowly chuckling once more, easing into him with another flick of his eyes, a conquering smirk.

"It felt so good, I do believe I might return the favor."

Clint swallowed as the man closed in on him, reaching out to fist at the bottom of Clint's shirt. A profound, entirely uninvited and unwanted heat unfurled inside of him at the same time, pulsing in his abdomen and pressing dangerously at the underside of his zipper.

"I'm not into men."

Loki laughed. It was as low as it was dangerous, sparking another wave of heat to roll through Clint's body. His shoulders shook beneath it as the man let out another amused chuckle, tugging at the front of Clint's pants with a soft pop, the drag of a zipper.

"Not into men," Loki repeated, slipping a finger through one of Clint's belt loops. "So then you must be into gods."

Clint wanted to fling the man off of him― he was so damned _full_ of himself and yet Clint could only stand there, gripping onto the back of his chair and gazing down at where Loki descended upon him. The heat wracking at his insides progressed to a sweltering state, stabbing through his arousal one powerful jolt after another.

"Perhaps you're into green eyes?" Loki guessed again, and he tore Clint's pants down his thighs, exposing his painfully hard erection in one smooth pull. It sprang to meet them and Clint growled, averting his eyes. He could feel the man's feathered locks flicking at his thighs and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe that he was just going to lay back and let this happen.

The warm breath that followed had him growling for a whole new reason and he gripped harder onto the back of his chair, thudding his backside against it with another heavy clatter.

"Perhaps you simply have a preference for... dark hair?" Loki went on, and he gripped onto both of Clint's hips, digging his fingers in to force his gaze. It worked.

Clint glanced down at the man and groaned at the sight: Loki was just inches from his arousal, his eyes heavy and glistening, his lips just parted in a dizzying sigh.

"Pale skin?" Loki went on guessing, and Clint let out another growl, this time an infusion of irritation and desperation. He rushed a hand to the back of Loki's head, gripping up a fistful of his hair.

"Shut the fuck up," he ground out, coaxing another soft, knowing rumble from Loki's lips.

"That's what I thought," the man breathed, and he gripped onto Clint's hips harder, leaning in to dance his tongue over Clint's already glistening head.

Clint hissed at the surge of heat that ran the length of his body, letting his eyes fall shut and his head fall back.

Loki's tongue was on him next, though there was nothing tentative or teasing about it. It was sliding in against him, slowly gathering him up. Clint's legs began trembling; his hands and hips were just as misbehaving, jolting forward with a rushed breath.

Loki only hummed, running his palm along Clint's abdomen before sucking long and hard, devouring him entirely. Clint's hips rocketed forward at the same time and he nearly yelped, crushing his fingers into the chair at his back, unable to deal with the spark that fired off inside of him. In less than a moment, Loki had rendered him incapable of complex thought; all he could focus on in that moment was his searing tongue, the near-vacuum that had formed beyond the god's lips.

He slicked into his mouth with a loud moan, jerking beneath the treatment. Loki only groaned around him, assailing him with another wave of vibrations, coaxing another ragged, breathless moan from his lips.

Loki drew back with a hard suckle, sealing his lips around the end of him with one quick flick of his tongue. He sucked in a hard breath, reaching out to grip at Clint's shaking hip.

"Not men," Loki repeated. "Just _me_ , then?"

Clint shook at the thought, gripping even harder at the chair. Loki was on him again, through this time Clint's length nearly leapt to meet him. Loki swallowed him up in an instant, coaxing another sharp, wracking spasm to tear through Clint's loins. It was disabling, rushing white, popping flashes to his eyes.

He grit his teeth at the cry that burst free of him, rocking his hips forward to fill the god's mouth even further, until he was slipping dangerously at the back of his tongue, briefly pressing on his throat before pulling out again.

Loki gripped at each of his hips, guiding his bucks forward as if to assure him that it was okay. And it worked. Clint barely maintained the consciousness to care. His body was on fire, spasming and jerking forward, filling Loki's mouth with one thrust after another.

Loki moaned around him, spurring him on.

Clint went blind in his ecstasy, growling at the sounds of Loki's own muffled groans. His eyes rolled at the suction that formed around him, at the hot silk of Loki's mouth. He went on grinding into his lips as Loki's fire consumed him, as his own body shot off one euphoric burst after another.

He plowed forward, face burning at Loki's rushed groan, at the tug of his throat and tongue swallowing around him. A shock of heat coursed through his body at the same time, hot and electric where it rushed through the length of his arousal and spraying the back of the god's throat.

Loki rushed a hand to Clint's backside, dragging him further in and swallowing around him, humming softly, even _amusedly_.

Clint blinked at the sound, chest heaving. Sweat had beaded at his forehead and neck and he reached up with one shaky hand, swiping it away. He grunted, and Loki chuckled, drawing away from him.

"I take it we're friends now?" he mused, and Clint rolled his eyes, averting his gaze. If he looked into those eyes any longer he might end up doing something far worse.

"Shut the fuck up," he managed a second time, and the god only went on laughing― he'd _won_ again, and Clint hated to admit that he liked it that way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my woman's birthday (Wheynet). She wanted me to post this because she says you guys in the Frosthawk community can never get enough hot stories.


End file.
